


Fathers and Son

by theletterelle



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Dirty Talk, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theletterelle/pseuds/theletterelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Pete and Gabe are married, Gabe is Bronx's stepfather. But how different will this be from the way things were before, really?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fathers and Son

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xstarlesscity](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=xstarlesscity).



“If you hurt him,” says Ashlee, “I will kill you.”

“I won’t,” says Gabe. “Of course I won’t, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that he’s my son, and I don’t want him emotionally scarred for life. I know you, and I know Pete, and I know that when the two of you get together, your combined IQ drops thirty points. I will not allow you to do or say anything that’s going to hurt Bronx, is that clear?”

“I wouldn’t-- I mean, God, Ash, it’s not like I haven’t been around him before. I’ve _babysitted._ Babysat. Whatever.”

“I’m just saying.” Ashlee sighs. “Okay, hey. I trust you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t let him anywhere near you. But I worry. You and Pete don’t have the best track record on responsibility.”

“That’s different.” Gabe jiggles his leg up and down. “I mean, yeah, we’ve done stupid shit. But this is your kid.” _Our_ kid, he wants to say, but he doesn’t think Ashlee’s ready to hear that. “I wouldn’t hurt him, Ash. Never in a million years.”

“All right,” says Ashlee. “Make sure you don’t.”

-o-

“Unca Gabe?” A tiny curly blond head peeks in the bedroom door. “Hi Unca Gabe!” Bronx runs into the room and tugs on the bedspread, trying to pull himself up.

“Huh?” Gabe rolls over to look at the clock. 6:30, what the fuck. “Hey, buddy. It’s early. What are you doing up?” He lifts Bronx into bed with him.

“I got a frog.” Bronx holds up a floppy stuffed animal that might be a frog, if the room was lighter and Gabe could see. “Lookit my frog.”

“Yeah, I see.” Gabe lays back and rubs his forehead. He’s in the guest room still; he and Pete decided that one change at a time would be easier to accept than creating a complete upheaval. Gabe’s stayed with them before. He’s just not going to leave now.

“No, you’re not looking. Look!” Bronx shakes the frog in Gabe’s face, and Gabe opens his eyes. “I see your frog,” he says tiredly. “What’s his name?”

“Rooster.”

Gabe’s heard weirder. “That’s a great name, buddy. Hey, how about we lay here and be quiet? How does that sound?”

“I want you to play with me.” Bronx is very good at ignoring what he doesn’t want to hear. “I have trucks. Vroom!”

Oh God, it is too early for this shit. Gabe’s good at operating on a couple hours’ sleep when he’s on tour, but breaks are for resting. Still, Bronx is tugging on his hair, so it’s not like Gabe will get to go back to sleep, and he really does love the little guy. He can nap later. “Okay, dude, let’s go find your trucks.”

-o-

“Hey.” Pete stands in the door of Bronx’s room, rubbing his eyes. “I wondered why I got to sleep till eight. Whatcha guys up to?”

“Unca Gabe is the bad guy,” says Bronx, intent on smashing Gabe’s truck with his own. “I’m the good guy. Grr! Grr! I’m gonna kill you, bad guy!”

Pete yawns and stretches. Gabe averts his eyes. Pete’s shirt is riding up, his pants are sliding down, and Gabe shouldn’t be having those kinds of thoughts with a kid in the room. “Good guys don’t kill,” says Pete absently. “Have you guys eaten?”

“I gave him some raisins and cut up an apple for him.” Gabe’s inordinately proud of himself for keeping it healthy. He’s pretty much gonna be the best stepdad ever.

“Hey buddy,” says Pete, “do you want some breakfast?” Gabe frowns. He just _said_ \--

“Yeah!” yells Bronx. He jumps up. “I want pancakes! Pancakes! Daddy, I want pancakes!”

“Sure, you can have pancakes.” Pete steps back as Bronx barrels out of the room and towards the kitchen. Gabe gets up. “Pancakes? I thought we were being healthy here.”

“They’re whole grain,” says Pete. He grabs Gabe’s arm and puts it around his shoulders. “That counts. Ash knows.”

Gabe isn’t entirely convinced. He really doesn’t want Ashlee accusing him of encouraging bad habits. But Pete’s his dad, and Gabe can probably hide behind him if need be. “Can I have pancakes too?” He tugs Pete into his hip.

“I dunno,” says Pete. “I hear you’re a bad guy. Bad guys don’t get pancakes.”

“I can be good. I can be _very very_ good.” Gabe wiggles his eyebrows. Pete laughs.

-o-

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“Pete, I’ve watched Bronx before. I know it might not seem like it, but I’m not the world’s worst uncle. Dad. Whatever I am, I’m not terrible at it.”

“No, no, I know you’re not. I just.” Pete waves a hand. “I just don’t want you getting overwhelmed. I mean, when he first came along, I was a fucking _mess_ , okay, and Ash was here, and her mom was here, and I was still scared that I was going to fuck shit up.” _Like I do_ , his face says.

“Hey, no. I’m fine. I’m good.” Gabe messes with Pete’s hair, and Pete smacks his hand away, but grins. “He’s not even awake. Go. Shoo. I’ll call you if the house burns down.”

“Don’t fucking joke about that, man. This one time when he was learning to walk, Bronx opened the oven--”

“ _Go._ ” Gabe opens the door and pushes Pete outside. “Get your shit taken care of and come back. I promise nothing will happen.”

-o-

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

“Hey, hey, buddy, it’s okay--”

“NOOOOOOOO!”

“Look, here’s Rooster, he wants you to stop crying--”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Gabe has no idea. None. Toys don’t work, Bronx hasn’t had an accident, and he just had lunch before he went down, so what? What the fuck is wrong?

Bronx lets out another yell, but it stops when he runs out of air. His face screwed up and mouth open in a silent howl, he turns red, then purple, and Gabe panics. “Breathe, Bronx.” He tries not to let the anxiety show in his voice. “Bronx, breathe, come on.” He pats him on the back, but Bronx just shakes in rage, and Gabe’s about to call 911 when Bronx finally gasps deeply and lets out another scream. Gabe isn’t sure whether to be relieved that Bronx isn’t going to pass out or horrified that the neighbors will think he’s murdering Pete’s kid.

“I! WANT!” Bronx takes a deep breath and screams the word. “MOMMY!”

Oh _fuck_. Gabe resists the urge to bang his head against the wall. He’s pretty sure reason won’t work, but he tries it anyway. “Bronx, Mommy will be here tomorrow to pick you up. Daddy’s coming home soon, you want to see Daddy, right?”

“MOMMY,” Bronx bellows. Tears run down his face, and his whole body is stiff. Gabe actually whimpers. Jesus, he sucks at this. “You want ice cream?” he asks in desperation. “Want an ice cream cone? You gotta stop crying if you want an ice cream cone.” Bronx probably isn’t supposed to have that much sugar, but they’re Gabe’s Drumsticks, and goddammit he’s gotta do something before someone calls the police.

It does the trick. Bronx stops screaming, and though he’s still teary-eyed and snotty, his sobs subside to muffled gasps. “Ice cream.”

“Yeah.” Gabe sags in relief. “Come on, let’s get up and get ice cream.”

“Chocolate,” says Bronx, grabbing Gabe’s hand and holding on tight.

“Sure, buddy,” says Gabe. “Whatever you want.”

-o-

Pete can’t stop laughing when Gabe tells him about it. Bronx is watching Yo Gabba Gabba in the living room. “Shut the fuck up,” says Gabe. Now that it’s over, he can be mad. “So not funny, asshole.”

“Except it is,” snorts Pete. “It’s _hilarious._ Dude, no one’s calling the cops on you. They’ve all met him; they’ve all heard him yelling before. It’s not anything new.”

“Yeah, not to anyone but me.” Gabe frowns. “Seriously, shut up.”

“No, I know.” Pete’s still grinning, but it’s his getting-serious grin. “It’s different now. You get that, right? You’re not his Uncle Gabe anymore.”

“I don’t think he’s ready to know that yet.” Gabe isn’t sure he’s ready to know that yet.

“Too late.” Pete punches Gabe in the arm. “You agreed. No takebacks now.”

-o-

“What do you want?” Pete’s whisper is nearly a growl.

“I want-- oh fuck, yeah, I want to suck your dick.” Gabe runs fingers down Pete’s sweaty chest. “I’m good at it, you know I am, I want to you shove your dick down my throat and make me take it.”

“Fuckin’ whore.” That’s definitely a growl.

Gabe nods against Pete’s hip. “Yeah, I’m your whore, I wanna take it, I want it hard--”

“Daddy?”

“Jesus!” Gabe yelps, rolling off Pete and to the other side of the bed. Pete tugs his sleep pants up and flips on the light as Bronx shuffles toward the bed. “Daddy, it’s dark in my room.”

“Hey, buddy.” Pete casts a glance at Gabe, who’s pulling his shirt down over his chest. “Sure, it’s dark. It’s nighttime; that’s what happens at nighttime.”

“It’s scary.” Bronx holds up his arms to get boosted up. “I no like the dark.”

“Nah,” says Pete, snuggling Bronx into his side. “Not scary. And don’t you have a nightlight? You don’t have to be scared of the dark if there’s a nightlight.”

“It’s too little.”

“Okay, then. We’ll go get you a bigger one tomorrow.”

“Elephant.”

“Sure, buddy, we’ll get an elephant nightlight.” _Do you know if there’s an elephant nightlight?_ Pete’s eyebrows say to Gabe, and Gabe shrugs back. If there is, they’ll find one, and if not, Pete will probably get one made. “But tomorrow, okay? Tonight is for sleeping.”

Bronx’s eyes are closing. “Wanna sleep with Daddy.”

“Don’t you wanna go back to your own bed? Rooster is there.”

Bronx shakes his head. “Unca Gabe gets to sleep with Daddy. Me too.”

Pete gazes ruefully at Gabe. Gabe smiles. “It’s cool. Turn off the light and we’ll all get some sleep.” So much for hiding anything.

“Cool,” Bronx murmurs, and Gabe and Pete both snicker.

“I can’t believe I got cockblocked by a three-year old,” sighs Gabe when Bronx has settled.

“Coxbox,” says Bronx, almost fully asleep.

“Shit. Ash’s gonna kill me,” Gabe whispers. “Fuck.”

“If you don’t want her to, quit swearing around him,” Pete whispers back.

Bronx rolls over. His hand lands in Gabe’s hair, and he pulls on it instinctively. Gabe lets him. “Wan’ Daddy,” murmurs Bronx and snuggles closer to Gabe.

Gabe goes quiet. So does Pete, until he rests his hand on Bronx’s tiny back. “Daddy’s here, boo.” He looks up at Gabe. “You got both daddies here.”


End file.
